But You Made Me
by IAmSwoofie
Summary: "I didn't want to love you..." He didn't remember falling in love with her, only realizing that he was. Harry can't sleep and it's entirely Hermione's fault. Takes place during DH.


Someone stop me! I keep posting more and more stories and I haven't managed to finish a single one yet! Not including one-shots, of course. Ah, whatever. Better out than in! This will be a short one, I hope. I don't plan to write too many chapters, and it'll skip a lot. It's still DH, but with an H/HR twist. Yes, I know, it's been done before! But lemme get a shot at it! This is a side project and the chapters will only be about 1k-2k words each, but hopefully I'll be able to pack enough into them to keep you interested. Anyway, if this seems familiar, i'm basing the first chapter off an old story I posted on a different account a few years back. Anyway, thats it for now. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

"Harry—"

"No."

"Really, Harry! Why must you be so difficult? I'm only trying to—"

"For Merlin's sake…Hermione! Why? Why…can't you just leave me be?" cried a frustrated Harry, burying his head in his hands, fingers fisting his messy black hair tightly. Silently, he prayed to whatever god was out there that when he looked up she would be gone, allowing him to brood once more in peace. A few moments later, he released his hands and risked a glance behind him, groaning deeply as he saw her still there. Alas, his ever faithful good luck was no longer on his side.

Hermione stood at the door of his bedroom, staring worriedly at her best friend as he leaned tiredly against the glass windowpane. Lately, she had noticed how tired Harry was; his bright emerald eyes, once shining with fierce determination, were now a dull green, as if in weary resignation, dark circles sagging beneath his eyes. The wizarding world's savior—unanimously regarded as the Boy-Who-Lived and new Leader of the Light, after the recent death of his mentor Albus Dumbledore—had done a wonderful job at disguising his weariness, playing quidditch in the fields with the Weasley boys and Ginny, helping Molly around the house despite her protests, laughing and joking with everyone…he had convinced everyone that he was completely fine, but Hermione knew better.

She and Harry, despite their small falling out the past year, had always been closer to one another than they were with Ron, and having known him for six years now, she knew exactly when something was wrong. There used to be a lightness in his step, a spring in his walk, but now he dragged his feet as if the entire weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and his shoulders alone—which, if one considered the Prophecy and the upcoming Horcrux hunt, it kind of was, though he most certainly would not be doing it alone. His voice, once deep with confidence and the tone of one who often found something amusing, now lacked the resilience it once held and he had lost the enthusiasm for life that he had always carried. Something was definitely wrong with him, that much she could tell. But when she approached him on the subject, he'd quickly turn away, hastily denying her accusations.

Hermione had finally had enough. After the many residence of the Burrow had gone to bed, she had snuck out of the room she shared with Ginny and quietly tip-toed her way to Harry's room, which he was allowed to have as his own. And that was where they were now, she worried and he frustrated.

"Please, just go away," he said, his back still to her. He didn't want to be around anyone, especially not _her_. She…_she_ was the cause of his unrest! Tilting his head sideways, he glanced at her through the corner of his eyes before turning away once more. He sighed heavily as he thought of how lovely she looked in her nightdress, her face practically glowing in the moonlight. Six years had done a lot for her; no longer was she the awkward, bushy haired, buck toothed 12 year old of their youth, but a beautiful 17 year old who had most certainly grown into her looks. His blood boiled as he thought of the way his dorm mates, back at school, had talked long into the night about the female Gryffindors and how even shy, innocent little Neville had mentioned how pretty their resident bookworm was becoming.

He didn't remember falling in love with her, only just realizing that he _was_. Perhaps he had always loved her; of _course_ he had always loved her, she was his best friend and practically his sister, but somehow, his feelings for her had always seemed more than that of a brother. Harry loved the Weasley boys and found in them the older brothers he would never have, and after a serious contemplation about his relationship with Ginny, he realized that after the death of Sirius, he had only wanted an escape from the pain and pressure of life as Harry Potter, and being with Ginny seemed like the best choice. But when he looked at Hermione, it seemed…_different_…more _intimate_. And when the weird, awkward love triangle happened between Ron, Hermione and Lavender, that love came washing over him in full force.

He had tried to deny it, attempted to block the swelling rage that ebbed and flowed like tide against the sand, but the more he refused his feelings the more it built up until it became a tsunami that swept him away in a rush of self-revolt and disgust, ashamed of the feelings he held for her. They had practically grown up together, seen often as siblings in everything but blood, and with her very obvious affection for Ron, there was absolutely no way to erase their history as such. From then on, he had been a miserable mess, though he had tried his best to hide it. Of course, Hermione, being who she was, easily caught onto his change in behavior.

"I'm really worried about you," said Hermione, and Harry winced lightly as she came up beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I really am, Harry." She was always worried about him, and that was probably one of the reasons why he loved her so much. Despite all that they had been through, all the arguments, the near death experiences, all the trials and tribulation, she still cared about him. She cared about his safety and well-being, and saw him for who he truly was, _just Harry_, and that in itself was enough to win over his undying love and loyalty.

"I'm fine," he replied, shrugging off the hand. He must've sounded harsher than he had meant to, because she stepped back and gave him an offended look. His heart twisted guiltily as he saw the hurt look on her face and he quickly tried to make amends. "I'm sorry. It's really late and you know how grumpy I get when I'm tired." He faked a yawn and continued, "You should get to bed, Hermione. I'll see you in the morning."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, easily picking up on the deception. Despite the feeling of protest welling deep within her, she nodded her head and followed him to the door. As he held it open for her, she stopped and looked him straight in the eye. "Don't think that I'll forget about this, Harry." We'll discuss this once more in the morning, after breakfast." Leaning up, she kissed him on the check and walked out the door. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Hermione," he answered shakily, closing the door behind her. His hand automatically reached up to touch his cheek, remembering the feel of her soft lips lightly brushing against his flesh as she kissed him goodnight. With a sigh, he climbed into bed to catch some shut eye. After all, he'd be waking up bright and early. There was no way he'd be around in the morning to finish their conversation.

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


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